


In oculis veritas

by Iriascend



Series: Emotionally Constipated Robins [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Afterlife, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd-centric, Light Angst, MO is make it up as we go, Male-Female Friendship, Metahumans, No outlines we die like inspired idiots, POV Jason Todd, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rated T for swearing, Resurrected Jason Todd, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iriascend/pseuds/Iriascend
Summary: Jason Todd needs to figure himself out a good couple times throughout his life, and none of those times are easy.Luckily for him, he has backup.
Series: Emotionally Constipated Robins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581820
Kudos: 102





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Marigolds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823257) by [Eat0crow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eat0crow/pseuds/Eat0crow). 



> The title is a play on the Latin sentence 'in vino veritas' that means 'in wine there is truth' (people speak the truth when drunk). This one means 'in eyes there is truth' (eyes never lie).
> 
> This is my first Batman-related fic and I have very little actual knowledge about the DC universe but I did a lot of research to make it as coherent as possible. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason deals with a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intro, Latin for 'entry, beginning'.

The first time Jason met her didn’t really count because he didn’t even remember it.

It was like any other meeting, any other night, any other civilian. Batman and he had swooped in, punched the bad guys, saved the day. The exception was the civilian victim got shot in the hassle, her heart stopped beating and they had to rush her to the hospital. Batman didn’t care too much — it’s not like it never happened before, he said. Civilians got tangled into the mess all the time. And they did everything they could for her and should move on to another case. Jason didn’t like that approach, but he also didn’t want to get caught visiting her, possibly endangering their secret identities. So he checked up on her by hacking into the hospital database from the Batcave. The very least he could do was make sure she made it. Only after that he moved on and forgot about her, swooped into new problems.

The first time Jason met her didn’t count.

The actual first time Jason met her was a year later.

He was wandering the streets of Gotham seemingly for ages, somehow unable to find his way back to the Manor. Even if he had a fight with Bruce, he knew he could go back. He only vaguely remembered what the fight was about, and had a fuzzy memory of a trip overseas. Was he drugged? Possibly. That meant he had to go back.

He couldn’t ask for help, though. He knew he needed to find his way back to Manor on his own. If people will see him, whoever stranded him, will find him too. He kept to the shadows, ensuring that nobo—

“Hey. Do you need any help?”

Well, _fuck_.

Jason quickly turned around, a birdarang in his hand, ready to throw. Before him stood a girl, roughly his age, maybe a little younger. Civvies, a ponytail and a half-open backpack with textbooks peeking out of it. Completely normal.

 _Too_ normal.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Just a bystander? I saw you and you seemed lost…”

He hissed. That couldn’t be true.

She raised her arms, palms open towards him, in a gesture of submission.

“Okay. I understand. I’ll go. If you want to talk, this is right next to my usual route from school.”

Jason sneered at her. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone you saw me here,” he said, and then nodded at her to go.

She backed out slowly.

 _Good_.

Jason saw her a couple more times. Sometimes he would wander back to the very same alley they first met, and she indeed seemed to be passing it every day. Sometimes she’d peek through the alley, obviously trying to check if he’s there. Sometimes he’d allow her to see him, and she’d wave at him discreetly. Nothing seemed to go wrong in the meantime, so he assumed she, in fact, hadn’t told anyone about him. At least that.

At some point, days maybe weeks later, Jason decided to get her attention again and beckon her closer. She didn’t even stop to think if she should enter a side alley like that. Some people in Gotham have no self-preservation instincts at all.

…

In Gotham, right? His mind was so fuzzy. Why was it still fuzzy?

“Hello,” she said, approaching him. “Are you hungry?”

Jason shook his head. “No,” he said, placing his hands on his hips and standing widely as if to seem more intimidating. Mostly because he knew what he was going to ask would sound very stupid, and he wanted to keep at least some of his dignity. “This is Gotham, right?”

“Yep.”

“Next to Gainsway street?”

“Yeah, about five minutes from the park.”

He sighed in relief. She raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t sure? I thought the Boy Wonder knew the city like the back of his hand.”

“How do you know I’m—”

“The costume.”

Jason looked down at himself. Right. He was wearing the costume. What a stupid question.

“I was just testing you,” he barked out, a little defensively. He can’t have people thinking Robin is stupid. He had to give an excuse.

“I figured.”

There was silence between them for a moment.

“Do you need help getting around?” she asked him. He pondered that for a while. Did he? Why did he want to talk to her?

“What? No. I just…”

“Hadn’t talked to anybody in some time?” she tilted her head.

He grimaced. “Yeah. I guess.”

She outstretched her arm towards him. “My name is Julianna. Nice to meet you.”

Jason hesitated for a split second, then shook her hand. It felt off, but given how fuzzy his head was, he didn’t expect anything else.

The next couple of times Jason met her were still in the same alley. He wasn’t sure where else to find her. But she really hit jackpot with that ‘need to talk to somebody’ thing, so once in a while, he caught her attention as she passed by. They’d chat — about her life, about her school, about her family and the few friends she had. Sometimes they’d even do her homework together. Everything perfectly normal and frankly, not very interesting, but it gave Jason a reprieve from his futile attempts to find the Manor. It was like it disappeared. Or like he was going in circles. Either way, exhausting.

So, the company was a welcomed change of pace.

“Hey. Are you hungry?” she asked, like she always greeted him, and sat down on the curb, like she always did.

“Nah. Why do you ask that every time?”

Julianna shrugged. “I usually have a leftover sandwich from lunch,” she said, and before Jason could think about whenever he believed that’s all there is to it, she continued. “Mom won’t stop asking me why I keep being late from school, so I might not be able to talk with you as often in the future.”

His face dropped. She was the only thing keeping him from going insane from how lonely, repetitive and constricted Gotham felt these days.

“You could drop by our place, though? If you come in by the window, Robin-style and all, my parents won’t know,” she added, seeing how sad he was about the news.

“I don’t even know _where_ you live, you stale peanut. And given how _well_ I get around lately, even if you told me the address I’d probably end up in Metropolis.”

She giggled, which proved she was very resistant to his mild insults. Jason enjoyed that. 

“What if I show you how to get there?”

“I can’t just walk out there into the crowd!” he snapped at her. She knew Jason had to keep a low profile, how could she suggest such a thing! “And a limp noodle like you certainly can’t go across the rooftops with me.”

Julianna nodded in agreement, amusement still glistening in her eyes. “But Halloween is next week. The streets will be packed with people in costume, including even dressed as Batman or Robin. You won’t even stand out.”

“Halloween is next week?” Jason blinked and reached up to touch his head, feeling slightly dizzy. “Fuck, how long has it been?”

“I met you about a year ago.”

“What?! Bats must be worried sick.”

“He probably is. But I don’t know, I am lucky to not get in trouble big enough to meet Batman anymore.”

“Anymore?”

Julianna shrugged. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time once. Got shot,” she tapped her chest around the sternum. “You and Batman saved my life, I’ve been told. I don’t remember much.”

Jason grimaced, and then looked away, unsure if he should be sad or concerned or what. “Oh,” he just said.

She chuckled. “It’s fine. This is Gotham, it just comes with the zip code at this point. I’m happy you were around to save the day. ”

He just gave her a crooked, half-sympathetic half-proud smile.

“That’s why when I saw you in the alley I thought the least I can do is check in on you.”

And that, finally, made some sense of this whole agreement they seemed to have. She was just _paying her debt_ , no ulterior motive, just basic human decency. That was a relief. “Thanks.”

“So, about the Halloween thing?”

“You’re nuts if you think I’m gonna do it.”

The next time they met it was Halloween evening. Both Julianna _and_ he must’ve been indeed nuts because she didn’t even have to ask him again. She just popped her head into the alley and he went with her like an idiot. But he really wanted to keep talking with her. He needed to keep talking to her if he were to ever find his way back to the Manor.

Still, he was understandably tense the whole time. Even though she led him through less crowded areas, on the sides of roads where nobody would bump into them or pay them any attention; he was tense. What if someone notices?

Weirdly enough, the plan didn’t blow up in their faces like he thought it would. People sometimes briefly looked at Julianna, slid their slightly absent gaze over her, but never noticed him. It was as if nobody even saw him. Some people even seemed to look directly past him, which honestly, rude as fuck.

But he was kind of glad, actually. Less attention, less fuss, less problems.

“We’re here,” Julianna finally said, pulling Jason out of his thoughts. Pointing to the tall building in front of them, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Fifth floor, on the right.”

Jason looked up. “Window with fairy lights, right?”

“You remember!”

“I mean, I don’t have much else to try to remember right now. And, well, I’m honestly surprised too that it stuck in my sponge of a brain.”

She smiled at him sympathetically. “So, do you think you’ll be able to find your way here now?”

He nodded. It wasn’t that far from the alley that was their usual meeting place. Even if he had problems with Gotham lately, he figured it shouldn’t be a problem to get here from Gainsway, and he could get to Gainsway pretty reliably.

“Great! Now you can visit, and hang out with me whenever you want.”

Jason gave her half a smile, trying to hide how much it meant to him. Gotham just became way less lonely and scary.

From then on, Jason and Julianna met pretty regularly. He’d drop by in the early mornings, before she went to school, and wish her a good day. He’d drop in the evenings, and peek over her shoulder and chat while she was doing her homework or listening to music. He’d drop by on weekends, and catch up on TV and video games with her.

Sometimes, he’d even drop by in the middle of the night, bored out of his mind, and Jul would scold him in a hushed voice. The first time he did that, he definitely spooked her, because she jumped in her bed and barely contained her alarmed yelp. Jason noted that she seemed way less scared than he had expected her to be, though. On the other hand, he was Robin, and she knew him. It was understandable that the only time she was really scared was the moment before she recognized him.

They agreed he won’t do it again because it’s creepy and weird that he hung around watching her sleep or going through her things. He still did it a couple of times, though, but was way more careful not to wake her up and not to be creepy about his visit. He hoped, at least, that he wasn’t being creepy. How bad can looking at the books and knick-knacks on her shelves be, right?

Autumn quickly passed after Halloween, and winter just came and went like it was never there, and finally, spring approached, supposedly bringing fresh air with it — as fresh as it could be in a big city. To be frank, he only recognized the passing seasons by the changes in Jul’s clothing and routine. The seasons all seemed to blur into one, and Gotham alleys hardly looked different to him from one day to another. Only her room seemed to change.

“What’s up, Jul?” he asked, peeking into the room and then hopping inside off her windowsill. Julianna looked up at him from her math textbook.

“Not much. Got a test tomorrow. You hungry?”

He groaned.

“No! Why do you keep asking that all the fucking time? I’m never hungry!”

She once again glanced at him, then closed her book and turned around on her chair to look at him properly.

“You’re never hungry,” she repeated, ignoring how weirdly agitated he seemed about it.

“So wha—” Jason began, then it hit him. She asked him the same question every time they met, and the answer never had been ‘yes’. He had never been hungry. When was the last time he ate, anyway?

Julianna sighed, seeing him frown. “Are you sleepy?”

Jason thought for a moment, then slowly shook his hand.

“Have you slept lately?”

He shook his head again.

“Never hungry, sleepy, cold. Mind always fuzzy.”

He stared blankly at the wall for a while, then looked back at her. “What the hell is wrong with me, Jul?” Jason asked, tone slightly more panicked than he had wanted it to be.

Jul sighed once again, then stood up and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m here, Robin. It’s okay.”

He slowly leaned into her arms, trembling a bit. The realization was banging at the door of his mind, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to open.

“I’m…”

She tightened the hug. “I’m with you. It’s okay.”

“I’m dead.”

A moment of silence.

“Yeah.”


	2. Post-homo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason deals with a new ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-homo, Latin for literally 'after (being) human'; means after finishing life, after death

“I’m dead. I’m fucking _dead,_ ” he repeated, a little angrier this time, and pulled away from her. “And you _knew_?”

Julianna shrugged and offered him a weak smile. 

“You hung out with a ghost for like two years?!”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?”

Instead of answering, he looked at her sternly and then started pacing around the room nervously.

“That’s why I can’t find my way to the cave! That’s why I keep coming back to the same places! That’s why days blend together like time no longer matters! That’s why B never found me!” Jason let out a frustrated groan and punched the wall. Nothing happened. He felt no pain in his knuckles from the strike, and it only angered him more. For a good while, he breathed slowly, seething with rage. Julianna watched him carefully. Then he turned back to her again. 

“That’s why nobody ever seemed to notice me. Except _you_.”

She shrugged again. “I just, well, see ghosts. I don’t know why or how.”

“Why’d you talk to me? In the first place?”

Another shrug. “That’s what I do, I guess. Ghosts just seem so… sad and lonely. It’s like… it’s the least I can do,” she said, a little too softly. Jason groaned again. He didn’t like to be called ‘sad and lonely’ because it sounded way too much like ‘helpless and fragile’. He was capable, and he could take the world!

At least he thought so. Maybe life proved to him he was wrong.

Jason punched the wall again.

He needed air, fresh air to clear his mind. Air and time to think. He needed a plan.

He walked up to the window, and instinctively tried to open it. His hands went slightly through the frame, and the window barely opened, like he almost didn’t touch it. He realized, only then, there were times before when he came in without opening it at all. Jul stood up and walked to him and put her palm on his shoulder again in a reassuring gesture. Then offered him her other hand, inviting him to grab it. Inviting him to stay. 

“It’s okay, Rob,” she repeated.

And he believed her. With that single sentence he believed that somehow, him being dead _is_ okay.

He leaned on her again. “What am I gonna do now?”

Jul sighed, and brushed his hair out of his face gently. “Figure out how to be happy anyway, I hope. Or at least how to manage your anger issues.”

He smirked at her attempt to make a joke. 

Her idea sounded like a plan. 

It was difficult at first. Julianna explained to him — speaking from experience she had with the few other ghosts she had met before him — that ghosts seemed to be people with, as legends said, unfinished business. What was his — he couldn’t figure out. Maybe something happened on his last mission, the one he only vaguely remembered? He tried to get a better grasp on his situation, and a better grasp of the world. Try to remember how he died. Try to notice the passage of time. Try to not freak out when he saw his own limbs go through objects or dissolve into nothing. 

It was hard.

The first thing he understood was how since apparently only Jul can see him, he _definitely_ can go out into the crowd. His world suddenly became _way_ bigger. Especially when he realized that since he could follow Jul home before, without knowing the place when he was alive, he could possibly follow her anywhere and expand his world even more. 

He was, though, bored out of his mind now that he knew just how much time he had on his hands. So, he started hanging out with her a lot more. Jul didn’t seem to mind — she didn’t have many friends, given how weird she seemed for people who _didn’t_ know why she’s talking to herself. So, both of them had reasons to keep each other company. 

Jason walked her to and back from school for a start, and checked out her family’s entire apartment instead of just her room. Got to know her parents and her older brother. Hung out in her school and, when he learned how to focus and more consistently touch things, even sometimes interrupted her lessons.

Innocently. Most of the time. Sometimes he’d distract her by pulling out something weird out of her classmate’s backpack or making funny faces at the teacher. At home, he’d mock how her brother talked to her, making her giggle at sometimes the worst moments, and encouraged her to break the house rules he considered stupid (like the curfew). He taught her a minimum of street smarts, so she would be a little safer in Gotham. Showed her shortcuts and helped her weasel out of sticky situations. Suggested solutions to her problems, like slashing the car tires of the girl who bullied her (Jul didn’t like the idea).

In turn, she allowed him to broaden his mind. Shared her books and textbooks with him, catching him up on things he missed when he dropped out of school. And catching him up with new games and movies, too. She broadened other aspects of his life — well, his _after_ life — too. Talked to him, like a friend he never really had before. Made him feel wanted, _at home_. 

In time, he even started telling her about himself. It’s been so much time, after all. Even if this was all an elaborate ruse or hallucination or something, he figured there was no harm in telling her some details. Like his name, so she wouldn’t call him just ‘Robin’. Like his story, his past. Like his favourite foods and places. Personal things you talk about with your friends. Something he never had a chance to do before. 

The second thing he really understood was how full of ghosts Gotham was. It wasn’t really a surprise, with the amount of death this city had to endure, coming at people out of nowhere. But Jason couldn’t imagine how draining it must be to navigate around your life seeing all those suffering souls and knowing you’re possibly the only one who can help them. Who can keep them company, at least. 

Jul’s pale skin and weak smiles and dark circles under her eyes finally made sense. He hadn’t noticed it before. Now he saw that sometimes, she’d wave at a random direction, and speak seemingly to herself, and hug empty space. He now understood there must be others like him — other ghosts there — that she is helping. 

“I can’t see them,” he whispered to her one time after he heard her say goodbye to nobody in particular. 

Julianna looked up at him in surprise, spooked a bit. “You need to stop sneaking up on me. I liked it better when you didn’t know you can do that.”

Jason grinned. “I’ve been good at this ninja shtick as Robin, and now I’m even better, you’ll need to get used to it,” he said and sat down next to her on the bench. “I can’t seem to see the other ghosts you talk to.”

“I guess it might be like with how you… how to say this… you didn’t realize you can do some things before you… well, realized it. And maybe it’s the same with seeing others? You just gotta… want to see them? The same as you apparently _want_ to sneak up on me.”

Jason chuckled at the comment. Jul shrugged and let out an exasperated sigh. “I really don’t know. They don’t seem to see you either. You’re the first one who talks to me about this stuff, too,” she eyed him. “Why? Jealous? Or you’d like to help me?”

Jason laughed sharply. “Never. I’m not a people person if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I hadn’t,” she grinned. He huffed in response, faking being offended. “But maybe it’s better that I’m the only one who can talk to others,” she added jokingly.

He laughed again, less sharp this time. 

The third thing he learned was how much he can do even while dead. Her assumptions must’ve been correct — it must’ve been a matter of realization. He did learn to see others, with a bit of effort, if he was in the right mindset and focused enough. Maybe not talk to them, but notice, and even hear if he was close enough. He’d remind Jul not to talk with them too long, so she wouldn’t get too exhausted dealing with problems that aren’t ultimately hers, or (less often) gave hints on how to talk to them. He was, after all, a street kid. Most of the others were also street rats, having met their end after getting into a mess too big for them to deal with. Sometimes he made her laugh when he made witty remarks about them. Sometimes he made her angry when he made fun of them. 

For months, it worked. He was happy and, as much as he could be while dead and knowing there was someone out there who took him out, at peace. He had a friend and a ‘ _life_ ’ far better than for the most part of his existence.

Sometimes, though, Jul started to talk. Asked questions. Hinted at things he really didn’t want to think about. And he didn’t really like those moments. At first, he got it and was just as curious as she was. What happened to him? What was keeping him here?

But the more time passed, the more he enjoyed his current state of affairs, the less he liked when she started the topic.

“I’m sorry,” Jul started with a sigh one time they were coming back from school, balancing carefully on the short stone fence between the sidewalk and the little square next to it. 

He tilted his head, looking up at her. She grew, while he didn’t, and even if she wasn’t on the high ground she’d have half a foot on him, at least.

“Sorry? For what?”

“You’re such a good guy, Jay. But I can’t seem to help you. In the way that matters, I mean.”

Jason frowned. 

“Don’t fucking start with _that_ bullshit again.”

“You’ve been wandering here for _years_ now. It’s wrong. You… shouldn’t have to be here.”

He frowned harder, folding his arms on his chest. He wasn’t sure if he felt angry (and if yes, at who or what exactly), or just frustrated.

“It’s important, Jay. I know it's a _touchy_ subject but I… you can’t stay a ghost _forever_. You have to, you know, one day,” Jul said, her shoulders dropping, and that was exactly what Jason didn’t want to hear.

“Well, maybe I don’t _want_ to!”

Julianna looked at him in surprise. 

“But if you _really_ want to get rid of me, you could’ve just said so!” he shouted, startling Jul, making her lose balance and fall backwards over the fence. When she stood up, calling out his name in half-panic, half-apology, he already wasn’t there. 

If someone asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell them whenever he _wanted_ or not to be found. The bottom line was, it didn’t really matter. He could only be in a specific, limited number of places and finding him was a matter of time. Sure, he could actively _avoid_ being found, but—

He didn’t really want to be completely alone again.

So when Jul finally walked in on him at the graveyard, he made no attempt to hide or move away.

“Jason?” she said, quietly and hesitantly, standing a good few feet away. 

“ _What_.”

He didn’t intend to sound so harsh, but there was no taking it back now.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“But you _did!_ " he turned to her rapidly and made her fall backwards again. He winced, seeing her sprawled at his feet, defenceless and slightly scared and looking so _guilty_.

“I did and I hurt you and I understand if you don’t want to ever see me again. I just wanted to… make sure,” she looked to the side, avoiding looking him in the face. “Wrap it up. And go, if you want me to.”

Jason would give _anything_ to hear words like those when he was alive. From anyone. Just admitting to guilt and accepting his decisions. It somehow meant _so much._

He sat down, on his own grave no less, with a sigh. Julianna slowly scrambled up to her feet. 

“It’s not... Listen. You know, at least vaguely, that save for the last year or so with Batman, I had a shitty life. Like, _real bad_. I was a street rat who had to survive either in a house with a father who liked to punch anything that moved after he had one too many beers, or alone on the street. And you can imagine what a 10-year-old orphan on the street in Crime Alley has to do to survive.”

She just nodded silently, her face still ridden with guilt. Even more than before, to be honest.

“So it ain’t even an exaggeration when I say that this time, these past years were like… the best time in my existence. I’m really having a blast, just, you know, being a kid. Being normal and hanging out at school and playing video games with a friend. Well, as normal as I can be, ghost and all.”

He too looked away. “I don’t want to pass on to a better place or whatever. As far as I’m concerned, this is my better place. This is where I wanna be.”

Jason sighed. “Maybe my ‘ _unfinished business_ ' is simply life.”

There was a long moment of silence between them.

“I’m sorry,” Jul whispered finally, and only then Jason realized that, oh shit, she was crying. Oh fuck.

He jumped down from the gravestone and knelt next to her, instinctively repeating what she would usually do to ghosts who were sad — putting his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. 

Jul hiccuped, and the sound she made seemed a bit like she was smiling, so he took it as a good sign. 

And then he felt a violent pull and looked at her in a slight panic as an invisible force pulled him away. His grasp tightened on her shoulder, and she grabbed his hand, too. Before any of them could say anything, he simply… disappeared. As if he was never there, as if they never talked. 

She called out his name, but there was no response. She searched for him, again, in every place he could be. To no avail.

That was the last time she met the ghost of Jason Todd.


	3. Nova Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason deals with a new discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nova, Latin for 'new'  
> Dies, Latin for 'day'.

The _second_ first time he met her was plain out bizarre.

He was preparing to hop onto his bike and go home, catch some Zs and maybe a breakfast after a truly long night out beating people up when he heard someone’s footsteps behind him. 

“Hey-”

Well, _fuck_.

Jason quickly turned around with a readied gun in his hand, aiming at the person who attempted to sneak up behind him. But to his surprise, it wasn’t a thug who dreamed they could ambush him. Before him stood a girl, roughly his age, maybe a little younger. Civvies, a ponytail and a half-open backpack with some groceries peeking out of it. Completely normal.

 _Too_ normal.

“Who the hell are you?”

Who in their right fucking mind approaches a costumed vigilante in the middle of the goddamn night. 

Okay maybe not the middle of the night, because it was already maybe one hour till sunrise, but still. Really not a good time for civilians to be out and about in Gotham, and really not the time to approach people, especially him.

Sure, he might have some brownie points with the general public. Maybe even enough to warrant people trusting it's better to be on his side if they get between him and some unsavory types. But she? She didn’t seem to be an assault victim searching safety behind his back. 

She did seem very much scared though. At the sight of his weapon, her arms sprung high upwards and her face paled. She tried to stutter out a response but failed, and Jason just sighed and lowered his gun.

“What do you want? Did something happen?”

She shook her head slowly. “I just… wanted to give you… um, my— my card.”

A card. A fucking business card from a civilian.

Jason couldn’t help but burst into laughter, holstering his gun. That certainly was going to be the highlight of the day, and he couldn’t wait to tell Roy about it.

“You have some guts to try that. And for that, I’m gonna grab it. What’s your business that you think Red Hood will need it? A gun shop?” he snarked, motioned for her to step forward and slowly made his way towards her. He kept an eye on his surroundings, and his arm was ready to grab the crowbar on his back and clock anyone who would try to get him. Whenever it was her, or someone using her as bait, maybe.

When he was close enough, he extended his hand. She stopped and placed a small piece of paper on his palm, seemingly having it ready when she approached him. It didn’t seem like a business card, though. He looked at it briefly and roared in laughter again. It only had a phone number on it.

“Oh man, you’ve really got ambition, don’t ya?” he looked at her, waving the thing, holding it between two fingers. She didn’t look half bad, but come on. “While I appreciate the offer, I can’t say I’m gonna call you, babe.”

The girl just froze for a moment, like a deer in the headlights, then turned deep red, curled in on herself and basically ran out of the alley. 

Jason looked after her as she disappeared around the next corner, just to make sure she wasn’t gonna do anything suspicious. Then he glanced one last time, chuckling, at the piece of paper.

“Roy’s not gonna believe this—” he mumbled to himself, turning the paper in his hands, ready to crush it and throw it away. He stopped mid-motion when he saw the other side of the note.

There, in rushed handwriting, were words that made him think very, very hard.

_Call me if you need to talk, Jason_

He sprinted up to the end of the alley and looked at where the girl had disappeared once again. Who the fuck was she, how did she know his name and what did she want?

Finding out about her was a piece of cake. The number tied to a name. A name tied to a face, and the face matched to the girl he met. Then, he could do a background check and see who is he dealing with.

Turned out, he was dealing with a psychologist barely out of college who had absolutely nothing interesting happen in her life at all. A recluse nerd with good grades moved away for higher education and came back to Gotham (who in their right mind does that?) after graduating with honors, currently employed in an uptown hospital as a counselor. A fucking model citizen. 

She was as plain as white bread.

He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then reached for his phone. Two beeps later, he heard a familiar voice.

_“What do you need, Jay?”_

“Oh come on Dick, do you really think I only call you when I need something?” 

_“Why was I graced with an afternoon call from you, then?”_

Jason shut up for a moment, grumbling internally.

“I need you to take a deeper look into someone for me.”

Dick didn’t even pretend he wasn’t laughing. Jason just groaned and let him calm down on his own. He could’ve hung up on him, but he knew the mystery of this girl would be bothering him for the entire next week and he really didn’t need that.

“When you stop hyperventilating, you can check your computer for stuff I already have.”

 _“Okay,”_ Grayson finally sounded like he was calming down, and scrolling through the tidbits of information Jason had sent him, _“who am I looking at?”_

“I’m not sure. She seems harmless enough, but there must be something more to her.”

_“Why you think so?”_

“She walked up to me last night and gave me her number—”

_“Jay, am I helping you stalk a possible hookup?”_

He just growled, then continued. “She gave me her number with a note that had my name on it. When I was in costume.”

_“Oh.”_

The conversation paused for a moment as typing could be heard on Grayson’s end. 

_“Yeah, okay, so, I’ll get Babs on it if she has a moment, but a quick search on my side shows nothing more, except a bullet wound when she was a kid. Maybe she got in trouble with some gangs? Some crimelord used her as a messenger or something? What did the note say?”_

Jason sighed.

“I sent you a photo.”

Another brief pause.

_“That’s it? Just that one sentence?”_

“Yeah.”

 _“That’s a little suspicious, yea. My first guess would be she’s some kind of mind-reading meta, maybe,”_ Dick paused again as if mulling over whenever to tell Jason something that came to his mind. Eventually, he seemed to decide against speaking up. _“Listen, I’ll send you what I found and call you later if Babs has anything else, okay? I gotta go.”_

“Yeah, fine.”

Jay threw the phone on the couch and let out a frustrated groan. He got up, went to the kitchen, opened himself a cold beer and walked back to his tablet when it beeped, signaling it received data.

What Grayson gave him was little more than he already knew, except in way more detail. As he didn’t particularly care for her high school grades or diploma topic, he opened up her medical records. 

“A bullet wound alright, Dick, you failed to mention the accompanying near-death experience,” he mumbled to himself, scrolling through the ER files. Being collateral in some kind of gang gunfight was obvious by the description of the wound, and even if it wasn’t, it was explicitly noted as such in the incident description.

The incident description that mentioned that the people who brought her to the hospital were nobody else than Batman and Robin.

Jason quickly scrolled up to the date at the top of the file and squinted. Maybe that’s a lead?

He texted Grayson the date. 

_who was with B back then?_

It took a couple of minutes to get a pingback. It was from Oracle, so maybe Dick really was busy if he had to forward it to Babs.

_you. rings any bells?_

Jason sighed and typed up a quick, dismissive response. 

_nrly. thanks_

He looked at the phone for a moment more before bringing up the address of her workplace on his tablet again, then headed for the door. It was time for more of a hands-on approach. He was better at it anyway. 

While he was on his way, Oracle sent him some more details. The girl, Julianna Powell, had night shifts that week so he had some time to go through her office before she came to work, then go check her apartment out, or just corner her on the parking lot later if he felt the need.

Beep. His phone lighted up.

_or you could just call the number from a burner phone_

Jason groaned at the text from Babs and put his cell away into his hoodie.

He walked into the building and went straight for the patient wing, pretending to be looking for a family member. When you looked confident and knew what to say, hospital security was very shitty.

Finding her office was a little trickier, though. It wasn’t a small building and he didn’t want to ask around, because someone could remember that and he didn’t want to potentially leave a trace of him snooping around. 

Beep.

_office is 3 floor room 229_

Luckily, apparently Babs could read his fucking mind. 

He made his way to the spot. It was in a rather remote part of the building — the psychologist’s office wasn’t exactly something that needed easy-access first-class placement. It played to his benefit. He could lockpick it without worrying about anyone walking in on him while he’s at it. It wouldn’t take too long — it was a simple doorknob lock, for fuck’s sake — but still, he liked it when it was calm when he did precision tasks like this.

Within moments, he was inside. Inside and wholly disappointed. A glance over the room revealed absolutely nothing eye-catching. It was just a slightly messy office, with half a cup of day-old coffee next to some random notes on the desk. They were about nothing interesting — most were just counseling notes or hastily-written reminders, some doodles. Nobody would leave anything suspicious in papers kept in plain sight anyway, he figured. 

The only other thing on the desk was a stack of business cards, much like the note he got yesterday. A phone number and a ‘call me if you need to talk’ on the back. Except without the personal touch, and on way better paper. 

Frankly, he was kind of offended that he got a crappy knock-off as his ominous message. He snapped a photo of one of the cards, sent it to Babs, then pocketed the original.

His next point of interest was the (un-) locked cabinet with patient files. Nothing came out of paging through them, either, not even any eye-catching patient name. He quickly abandoned that lead and proceeded to go through the drawers of the desk. Most held more notes, some official hospital documentation and forms. He also found a giant stash of spare pens and paper clips, some toys (probably for kid patients), one whole drawer full of snacks (terrible choice of protein bar flavors, honestly)...

And a framed picture of Robin - himself, no less, under the mask - along with a very old and very full notebook.

_Jackpot._

Jason started looking through the notebook but was quickly interrupted. 

Beep.

He took his phone out and glanced on the screen, fully expecting another hint from Babs.

Instead, he was greeted with a meme sent by the Replacement.

“I really need to fucking mute him…” he muttered to himself, putting the phone away again, trying to focus on what was in the mysterious Robin notebook. He didn’t get to it this time either, though, because the door opened. In it stood someone brandishing a clipboard as if it was a weapon, up above their head, readied for a strike. Someone rather short and dressed in scrubs.

Someone that unquestionably was Julianna Powell.

She lowered the clipboard-wielding arm. “Ah, it’s just you,” she said and flicked on the light, then walked in, closing the door behind her. 

It took Jason a moment to process what just happened. Where did the scared, embarrassed girl he met just yesterday go? Why did she react to him having had broken into her office as if she expected it? How did she even know he’s the same person as she saw before?

Jason closed the drawer and placed the notebook on the desk. There was no use pretending to be innocent now that he was caught red-handed. He just thanked the fucking god he had the brain to pull up his mask at least up to his nose when he entered the room.

“You have explaining to do, missy.”

“You could’ve just called.”

He groaned, crossing his arms on his chest. 

“Spill. Who are you?”

She shrugged and sighed, sounding a little sadder than Jason had expected. Did she think he would recognize her somehow?

“I’m guessing the real question you want to ask is how do I know you.”

“Yeah, that was also on the list, right after ‘why do you have a framed photo of Robin in your desk’.”

“Oh, that one's easy. Robin saved my life. I mean, not actually because I was dead for three whole minutes at the hospital, but the sentiment remains.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and grimaced, unable to decide whenever he was amused by her joking tone or annoyed by her attempts to derail his question.

She seemed to notice his frustration. “But to the point. It’s about the note, right?”

“Yeah, I was wondering why'd you give Red Hood a note for Jason."

“Well, I suspected it’s you and I kinda took a risk there approaching you. Worst case scenario I would give my therapy contact to an armed vigilante.”

He frowned. He didn't like the implication that some random civilian would know his identity.

"You know, that's exactly the confusing part. Why did you think my name's Jason?"

“Hm,” Powell looked him up and down, her face a little less confident than before, as if questioning her previous judgment. "Can we at least sit down?" she grumbled.

"Not until you tell me what's this all about."

"Fine. But don't say I hadn't warned you. You want the short version?"

"Start with _any_ version."

"You were my best friend when I was a teen—"

"I think I'd remember that kind of detail,” he snarled immediately, “You also don't exactly look like a Crime Alley kid."

Powell sighed sadly and frowned.

"Okay, fine, depersonalized version. Jason was my best friend when I was a teen. One day he… went missing. When I saw you I took the leap of faith and gave you that note, believing that somehow, you’re him. Even when you pointed a gun at me. Does that explain it?"

"Yeah, a bit, although it doesn't cover how the fuck did you deduct I must be the boy you last saw as a prepubescent. I mean, I know I look young, but not that young. So, what are you not telling me?"

She shrugged dismissively, but not convincingly enough for him. Jason nodded at her, and crossed his arms on his chest again, suggesting she needs to continue.

"Can't answer that unless you get real chill about a lot of things real quick."

"Try me," he retorted, raising an eyebrow again.

"What's your stance on metahumans?"

"If you worry I’m gonna out you or sell you to an illegal fight club, you can rest easy, you don’t seem like a good investment.”

She chuckled, clearly ignoring his sarcastic jab.

“Well then, my current theory is that those three minutes being dead gave me my, uh, ability.”

“Near-death experience made you a mind reader?” he sneered.

“Oh, so that's your take? That I read your mind and got the name Jason somehow? A fair guess, but not a correct one. It made me see ghosts.”

He blinked a few times in silence.

_“What?”_

Powell stared back at him, without even raising an eyebrow. Like his reaction was expected. 

And honestly, it should be, it should be the standard human reaction to news like that. He wondered how she didn’t get herself into Arkham before. Oh wait, there was a note in her files that she went through a few years of therapy at some point…

Jason took up the challenge she threw him with her gaze. Now that he paid more attention to it, he noticed there was something… off about the way she looked at him. He barely stopped himself from shuddering slightly. Nothing changed about her — nothing that he could see, at least. She still stood the same way, the same position, didn’t move an inch. As if expecting him to continue his reply to her revelation. Nothing that would make him immediately suspicious. And yet, there was something different in the way she looked at him. Like her eyes shifted, the same way Martians changed shapes, even if he could’ve sworn they looked exactly the same as a moment ago.

There was something unsettling about that feeling, about not being sure what changed, in a way that Jason didn’t like at all. 

"I can see dead people," she spoke up finally, her tone as if it explained everything. It didn't explain anything for Jason, as he just continued staring at her in utter disbelief. _Dead people._ What the fuck. What the _fuck_.

She blinked, and her eyes were seemingly back to normal. That didn’t make Jason feel any better about how uncanny they’ve been a second before.

"Are you questioning that ghosts exist, or that I can see them or that it has anything to do with you?” she added after a moment. “I have to know what I need to explain."

He scowled at her, trying not to show how thrown-off he was. 

"What does any of this have to do with the goddamn note?"

"You look awfully like the ghost of Jason Todd that spent four years hanging out with me before he disappeared into thin air."

Jason missed a beat. That was too many missed beats in too short of a time for his liking.

“You approached me because you thought I was, like, a miraculous resurrection?" he sputtered out, trying his best to make the _fact_ that it was, sound like a ridiculous claim. He really didn't like where this was going and he _needed_ it to seem like he finds it wild. "Because you thought I look like some tween ghost you knew?”

Powell just gave him a half-apologetic smile, as if she acknowledged how silly it sounded. That gave Jason hope.

“It’s not about the looks, although now that I had a closer look you do have Jason’s eyes. It’s about the… uh, vibe? It’s a different kind of look-alike than physical looks. Hard to explain.”

“Hard to prove, too.”

“You think someone’s using me to get to you and the entire story is made up."

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?”

She laughed. Jason had to admit, it was a refreshing, comforting kind of laugh. A bright one, a little bit like Dick’s.

“Nah, just a shrink. Also, Jason taught me a thing or two about Crime Alley kids.”

Beep.

Jason was about to throw his goddamn phone out the window to never get a text from Drake at the most inconvenient time again, but Powell extended her arm to stop him. “It’s mine,” she mumbled and reached into her pocket. Out of it, she pulled a beeping pager.

“I gotta go, a patient needs me,” she said, not even looking up at him from the pager. “If you want proof, you’re free to see for yourself how it works - I do deal with dead people here, after all. I’d also appreciate if you gave the notebook back after you check it out, I’m sentimentally attached to it," she pointed at the journal, still laying on the desk in from of him, then hurried out.

Jason thought that the second time he met her was equally bizarre as the first.


	4. Agnitio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason deals with a new him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agnitio, Latin for '(self-) realization'.
> 
> TW for a panic attack.

Jason stayed at the hospital as per her ‘invitation’ for just a couple of hours. Watched her as he approached patients and their families. Watched how she guided sick people through pain and how she gave reassurance to scared. Offered techniques to calm the stress to those who could only wait for news from a surgery. Grabbed a distraction  — a coffee, a snack, a toy  — for those who needed a break.

He couldn’t really take being around much longer. Not because he couldn’t stand someone be kind to others, like many ( _ cough _ Tim _ cough) _ would assume. No, he couldn’t stand the way her eyes, her posture, her…  _ aura _ ? Her  _ everything  _ shifted from time to time, in the same indescribable manner as before. Something was  _ off _ about her, and he was possibly the only one that cared about it. Others seemed to notice, sometimes  — he saw them flinch, or slightly raise their eyebrows  — but they always shook it off and carried on. Thinking its stress and tiredness and shock. 

But he knew.

He knew there was more than careful wording and saying what others wanted,  _ needed  _ to hear to her success. He saw how she glanced to the side of the just-passed parents or aunts or children, and kept still for a moment, listening; only to say something so  _ on point _ to the grieving family that they unraveled before her. Open wide. Exposed. Vulnerable. 

Like she had strung a nerve with  _ surgical _ precision. 

He still wasn’t sure if she told him the truth about the ghost thing, or was just a really good mind-reader that acted out the ghost version, knowing he might be watching. And it bothered him. That’s why he grabbed the Robin notebook and her dried out coffee cup and headed straight for the Bunker. 

“I need you to run some DNA tests,” he said, arms crossed and brow furrowed, the moment Dick landed in front of the entrance. With a damned somersault no less, that showoff.

The Demon Spawn was soon to follow, much less gracefully.

“What is Todd doing here?” the kid asked loudly, looking between Dick and Jason. Jason threw the cup at Dick and turned around to leave.

“Hey, no, you can’t just leave like that!” Grayson objected, catching the mug with ease. “You gotta tell me what you got. If it’s an issue to you, it might be an issue to everybody soon enough.”

Jason grumbled. He had a point, and he hated to admit it.

“What issue?” Damian wouldn’t stand for being ignored, so when Dick didn’t answer he promptly kicked him in the ankle. It only got a yelp of pain and a betrayed glance from the oldest Bat brother.

“One that isn’t yours, little devil,” Jason growled at him. He weighed his options. Dick would  _ not _ let him remain secretive about this thing, especially if he wanted his help. Barbara would be less annoying to deal with but it’d all eventually lead to the same result, so he opted to skip the extra steps. 

“Fine. I’ll debrief. But just you and Babs. Nobody else gets involved.”

“Deal,” Dick nodded, then yelped in pain again as Damian expressed his dissatisfaction.

“Okay, so, definitely an active metagene,” Barbara said over the speakers, from the safety of her own little lair. The big screen displayed a summary of the DNA tests done on material from the coffee mug Jason stole from Powell’s office. The small one served as Barbara’s window into the conversation. “Compared it with all the other samples of psychic-related metagenes, and it  _ does _ bear some likeness. But according to Miss Martian, it isn’t directly related to any telepathic abilities. Instead, it seems to just use similar pathways.”

“And in less nerd-like speech?” Jason scoffed, and Babs rolled her eyes.

“If mind-reading is listening to a radio, her power is also something related to electricity. Maybe it’s about using the fridge or maybe turns on the lights. Maybe she’s an electrician. But the source of why it all works is the same, electricity.”

“That would mean,” Dick began, jumping down from the desk he was sitting on, cross-legged, “it all adds up together. I can get how seeing the dead, souls or memories or whatever they are, would use similar mechanics as telepathy.”

They both looked at Jason expectantly. He really didn’t want to speak up.

“And the journal?” Barbara finally decided to break the silence, attempting to pull Jay’s tongue.

“And the journal is fucking creepy and includes things only maybe you guys would’ve known about me, if anybody,” he snapped, throwing the thing on a table next to Dick. Grayson grabbed it hesitantly and paged through it.

“So — ” he began, only for Jason to cut him off immediately.

“So it all seems to be true. Her story, I mean.”

Dick’s eyebrows slid upwards.

“But you don’t like it. The implications of it.”

“Well, who would?!” Jason yelled, losing his temper. If he ever had any. “I don’t know her! There’s a rando out there who thinks she’s my long lost friend and knows an uncomfortable amount of detail about me, and can recognize me in costume, and I know next to nothing about her!”

Grayson made a move to walk towards his brother with a worried expression but was stopped by Jason extending his arm.

“I don’t want your cuddly pity, you inflatable octopus. Take one more step towards me and I’ll blow your fucking kneecaps,” Jay growled. They held a staring match for a while like Dick thought it’d make Jason accept his affection. Instead, Jason turned on his heel and stormed out.

Damian busted into the room immediately after.

“What did Todd want?”

“Good question, kid. I don’t think he knows the answer either. And no, I will not tell you what happened. Little Wing would definitely hunt me down if I did.”

Damian huffed angrily. 

For a moment, Jason mused at not answering the ringing phone in his hand. But he knew the kid is anything but easy to shake off.

“What do you want, Demon Spawn.”

_ “I demand to be included in the case you and Grayson are solving. If it affects the Family, it is also my responsibility.” _

“It doesn’t affect ‘ _ the family’ _ . Get your nose out of my business before I break it.”

_ “If it affects a member of the Family, it is also my responsibility,” _ Damian stated dryly.

“Jesus fucking Christ, get off my case. I don’t need more trouble, I’m already handling enough ghosts of the past,” he mumbled, but something felt warm about Damian including him in the definition of his family this loudly and openly. 

_ “Is it about the League of Assassins?” _

“What? No! What gave you the idea?”

_ “You said it is about your past, Todd. The only other thing from your past to haunt you would be Father, to which both you and Grayson would react differently.” _

He snorted. The kid had a point, though.

“Amazing detective skills, Demon, B would be proud. But surprise, there’s a third option. And it’s got nothing to do with ya, so drop it.”

There was a brief silence on the other end and Jason thought he finally got through to Damian and was about to disconnect when the kid spoke up again.

_ “Do I need to involve Drake, or Father, for you to give in?” _

He laughed sharply, then his tone took a dangerous note.

“Don’t you dare, bat brat. Don’t you  **fucking** dare. I can handle this alone.”

Damian was silent for a moment.

_ “I’ll give you a week.“ _

“You will wha — ” Jason started, agitated even more, but the beeping of dropped line interrupted him. “Goddamned brat.”

He really wanted to stall and hopefully forget she ever existed. But now he had to deal with it quickly, or the stupid kid would make his life miserable in seven days stat. 

For a second, he considered just shooting Damian. It’d be easier. But then he came up with an even  _ easier _ solution and grinned.

The third time he met her was by his own rules. 

He dropped by her apartment right before she finished her shift in the morning, intending to wait for when she got back. He hadn’t slept since yesterday but he wanted to finish this as soon as possible. So he sat and waited.

Soon, the sound of the key in the front door lock made him perk up. Jason aimed his glock at the door. He could just shoot the moment the door opened, but he wanted to see if her story would change when told from the wrong end of a gun. 

Powell walked in a moment later.

“Hi,” he said from his sitting place on her couch, with a grin a crazy villain wouldn’t be ashamed of.

She dropped the backpack she was carrying in her arms, and her keys, and took a sharp gasp of breath in.

He stood up and walked to her slowly, keeping his aim up. He could see how her knees became weak, and yet she didn’t even make half a step away. For a moment, Jason thought she was being bold again, but then he realized - she was frozen, completely taken over by fear. 

Tears started to well up in her eyes. Unlike their previous encounters, they were missing her distinctive glimpse of life in them. No fleck of defiance, no curious sheen, no glint of smugness. They weren’t even glazed over with stress and fear like he’d expect from her stance. They just… were. Empty and blank. 

… and  _ off _ and all weird like the times she was looking into another dimension, even more than Jason saw before, but in a way that made it seem that she wasn’t even  _ looking _ at someplace else, but fully  _ went _ there. 

She gasped for air again, like she barely had any in her lungs, when he reached her and positioned the barrel of his gun right across her forehead. Her hands slowly moved to over her chest, covering her sternum like that was her weakest spot, one that needed protecting. Her eyes were wide, staring right at the gun in his hand.

Jason tilted his head in confusion. Why’d she tried to protect the chest instead of her head? She  _ saw _ where he was aiming at. What was wrong with her?

Then it all fell into place.

Gun. Sternum. Her episode at the ER when she nearly died. 

She was having a panic attack.

And that realization  _ broke _ something in him.

He glanced over at his gun. Just a couple years back, he would  _ enjoy _ someone being this terrified of him. He would  _ revel _ in it. Because back in the day, he would usually aim at criminals, at least at thugs who worked for them. Occasionally at vigilantes who annoyed him. Nevertheless, people who had done something to  _ deserve _ it.

And here he was, planning to shoot a civilian, a psychologist who gave out emergency contact cards no less, just because she had the brass to say she  _ knew  _ him. Because she dared to say he was once her friend.

Jason had never before come to regret his actions so fast, and he was usually dealt karma by life very quickly.

He pulled the gun away, holstered it and reached out to her. She didn’t budge at the motion, as if staring into space, unaware of his presence anymore. Hesitantly, he waved his hand a little in front of her face. No reaction except for a violent flinch and her eyes getting even wider and emptier.

Only when he touched her arm, she took another gasp of breath and promptly started hyperventilating and mumbling something. Her words were too fast and too jumbled to make them out, and she started to pull away from him and his grab in panic. Unsure what to do, he forcefully half-lead and half-carried her to the couch. There she promptly curled up into a ball with her back against the corner of the couch and started crying her eyes out. 

Jason felt lost and, for the first time in forever, he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t prepared for it to turn out like this. Usually, when things didn’t go his way, he’d remove himself. Escape. Make a strategic exit to possibly reapproach the situation in more favorable circumstances. And for a moment, he wanted to do it this time, too.

Then he heard her ragged whisper. Barely audible mantra.

“This is not then. This is not then. This is not — ...”

She was reliving possibly her worst moments, all thanks to him. Somehow, it felt worse than outright murdering people. Human brains were weird like that, he mused.

He couldn’t just leave her like that. He  _ didn’t want to _ leave her like that, to deal with a mess he made. 

Dick would be  _ so fucking proud _ of him. He swore to never tell him about it.

Jason grabbed a glass from her kitchen and filled it with water, figuring it would come in handy at some point with how dehydrated she was gonna get from crying. He put it down on the coffee table in front of Powell and very slowly sat next to her on the couch.

He knew enough about panic attacks to vaguely know what to do.  _ Vaguely _ being the keyword. He didn’t know her triggers (except the obvious one  — gun) and didn’t know what would soothe her, or at least snap her back from it. So he went with something that seemed innocent and general enough.

Jason pulled a blanket off the back of a nearby chair and slowly put it over her shoulders. She fought him, still staring off into space, as if trying to defend against the blanket, but quickly wrapped herself in the provided warmth. As if it gave her more sense of security, and isolation from the world outside of her absent mind. 

While struggling with her, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the black mirror of the turned-off TV. A big, masked guy with guns at his side. Yeah, definitely something she wanted around right now.

He hesitated. The idea that came to his mind was  _ dumb as fuck _ . But if she could really recognize him anyway, it would make no difference, right? And she was a defenseless civilian. He couldn’t possibly pose any danger to him. He sighed. Slowly, he pushed the hood off his head, took the mask off, and put it away along with the weapons on his belt.

Then he sat down next to her, put his hand on her back and started slowly, gently rubbing it. She flinched, and moved away a bit, but didn’t try to push him away.

“Listen,” he whispered, “Listen to me  — ” What was her name again? “... Julianna. Hey.”

She didn’t react. 

“Julianna, listen. This will pass. This too will pass.”

For a moment, he thought she didn’t hear him. Then he noticed her mantra slightly changed. For every ‘this is not then’ she whispered to herself, she added a ‘this too shall pass’, fitting it in there as easily as it was always supposed to be there. Like he gave her a missing piece of a puzzle. And he wasn’t going to question it.

He was also not going to question how he knew that he needed to help her regulate her breathing, or soon she’d faint from the way she was hyperventilating. 

“Breathe. In… two, three, four...”

As if on command, she took a deeper breath. He wasn’t sure how he knew breathing exercises for panic attacks at all, but he wasn’t going to doubt shit that seemed to work.

“Hold … two, three, four… and out… two, three, four… you’re doing great...”

She was trembling, which made steady breaths quite a challenge, but managed to follow his instructions. With a few more rounds of guidance, he got her to breathe a little deeper than panicked spasms on her own. With that small victory, he went back to rubbing her back.

Jason didn’t know how much time a panic attack lasted. But given how out of it she was, he expected her to come to no quicker than after thirty minutes. So he was surprised to see her blink slowly after a couple of minutes, then reach out for the water after a few more. 

“Hey,” he whispered, hoping he sounded soft enough not to jump scare her again. She stopped for a second, like an animal caught in their tracks. Then she pulled the glass to her face and drank a little, curling under the blanket again. She didn’t even look at him. 

“I lied,” she mumbled. Well, that wasn’t what he expected to hear, but he wasn’t going to complain. After all, he  _ did _ come here with the intention to test how her story holds up with a gun to her head. So he sorta got what he wanted. Even if that thought tasted bitter.

“Jay lived and died as Robin. He couldn’t change how he looked, he couldn’t take the mask off. I never got to see his eyes. I lied when I said you have similar eyes,” she took another sip. “I’m sorry. I projected my... wishful thinking on you. I guess I should talk to my therapist about grief again…”

He was, honestly, stunned. He was  _ just  _ attempting to murder her in cold blood, and now she was apologizing to him? Who is she? A goddamn saint?

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.

“Alright. I forgive ya, if you can forget the… the thing that happened here.”

Powell finally looked up, and around, a little confused.

“What happened?”

Oh. So she simply didn’t register. Well. Fuck. Now he had to tell her.

“I, uh, um, you — you had a flashback, I think.”

She slumped back down and rested her chin on the glass in her hands. She was silent for a beat or two, then her face dropped.

“You wanted to shoot me, didn’t you?”

He sighed in resignation, not having it in himself to deny it, then made a confirming noise. Why was he sorry about it? It’s not like he hadn’t done that before. He regularly threatened the Bats with violence, and sometimes even followed through on those threats.

“Thank you for not pulling the trigger,” she whispered, and that, that whimper of a scared civilian, hit him right through the heart. It felt awful, in a way he couldn’t put a name on. 

Quickly, he pushed those thoughts away, musing that when you live in Gotham, where every other guy can be a killer clown, you learn to appreciate the small successes. Like not getting shot in your own house, for example. No, wait, that didn’t sound right. 

“I’m sorry I was so much trouble. I’m usually better than this,” she continued when Jason didn’t react. “When I expect it, I can prepare myself and I just get very nervous… I hadn’t had a panic attack like this in years.”

With every sentence she uttered, he felt worse. Then it dawned on him. He never thought of himself as a real villain  — an antihero, yes, someone doing bad things, sure, but for a greater cause. Someone whose ends justified the means. And here he was made to face the reality that for this chubby psychologist from a small hospital in Uptown, he was no different than any thug you could find in Crime Alley. Shooting you for money, a statement, or just fun. Laughing at your pain. Did the Bats also see him this way?

… did he want to be seen that way?

He… He had to think. He needed air, fresh air and time and a plan.

Powell seemed to be fine enough to take care of herself now, so he got up. Grabbed his belt and mask, and walked over to the window, wanting to go out the same way he got in. But standing there, he hesitated. It felt like he should say something. But what? Should he even say anything? He already felt terrible about this entire situation. 

Jason sighed, then turned around to face her and leaned against the windowsill.

“I’m sorry. For all this.” No reaction, except for a poorly hidden, scared twitch of her shoulders. He bit his lip. “I lied too,” he added with a hint of doubt, and she looked up at him in surprise. “My name  _ is  _ Jason.”

Powell opened her eyes wider, then gave him a weak, sad smile.

“I figured when you said you thought I’m a telepath.”

His eyebrows rose at the revelation.  _ Clever little bitch _ . He had to admit, he was kind of impressed. Or rather, disappointed with himself that he let that one slip. Either way, she was sharp to pick up on it.

“Is it a coincidence, or...?” she followed up, slowly and quietly. He thought for a moment about it.

“I  _ am _ Jason Todd. But I’m not that boy you knew,” he paused. Was that all he wanted to tell her? “Not… anymore. I’ve changed.”

She smiled again, a little less sad this time, although her eyes wandered down to the floor. “Show me a permanent state of the self, though.”

Jason groaned in annoyance at that philosophical remark, and she curled up in fear just a little bit more, defensively. He threw his gear on the floor, cursing under his breath for scaring her again, and slowly walked up the coffee table, then sat down on the floor next to it. 

He leaned against the couch with his back. They both were silent for a good while, long enough for her to possibly stop being so jittery and scared of his every movement and word. She did at least put the glass down on the table, so he took that as a good sign.

“Listen,” he said finally. “I don’t remember you. Anything about you.”

She hesitated for a moment. “You knew my mantra.”

Jason looked up and back at her over his shoulder, confused, so she continued.

“ _ This is not then. This too shall pass _ . You — ... uh,  _ Jay _ came up — ”

“You can say it. That  _ I’m _ Jason, I mean,” he sighed. “Your story checks out, even if I really didn’t want to admit it.”

Powell paused for a moment as if thinking it over.

“... You came up with it for me back when I was waking up in cold sweat from nightmares about that night.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something Little-Wing-me would do. I was soft back then.”

“You aren’t now?”

“As you can see,” he gestured to the weapon belt laying on the floor next to the window. “I’m an asshole.”

“You did… stay with me, though. When I panicked.”

“I also made you panic,” he retorted. “I’m a bad, dangerous man. I’m Red Hood. I run half the crime in this city, and then some. You don’t know me, Powell.”

Jason closed his eyes. Why was he telling this to her? Did he want her to get scared of him even more? Or did he hope she’d absolve him of his sins? When did he start to see what he was doing as sins, anyway?

“My name’s Julianna,” he heard from behind his back instead. The tone didn’t bear much, if any, fear. “I think I’d like to get to know you some time, Jason Todd.”

He didn’t answer. He had no idea what to say. He just turned around and grabbed the hand he somehow knew was extended towards him.

“Yeah,” he mumbled finally, shaking Julianna’s hand. “I guess I’d like to get to know you too, Juls.”

Jason stared down at their hands for a moment. “How does a lunch later today sound?”

“It sounds alright.”

The third time he met her wasn’t anything like he imagined it would be. 

  
  



	5. Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juls' version of those 15 minutes she wasn't quite in the same timeline as Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karukos asked for something from Julianna's perspective, so here it is.  
>  **Trigger warning** for a panic attack, mentions of gun violence and death.

She was tired. Exhausted even. Barely holding it together anyway. It was a stressful night — there must’ve been a shooting, because by 4 am they had at least a dozen patients with bullet wounds. Some of them dying. All of them panicked. A dozen people she needed to support. A lot she will need to shake off later if she wants to keep any emotional integrity.

Not to mention the run-in with Red Hood in the evening. That was a handful to think about, too. What will he decide about her? Will he even give her notebook back? She hoped he would at least do that, even if she was entirely wrong about him.

It took her a moment to get the key inside the lock, and then to push open the old, easily stuck doors. Things especially hard when you’re barely standing _and_ have a backpack full of breakfast. Julianna stumbled inside, just about ready to faceplant into her bed for a couple of hours. What she expected to see was an empty apartment bathed in the orange tinge of sunrise glow. What she got was the sight of a gun, aimed right at her right in what she considered her safe space. With all the weariness already weakening her willpower, it was more than enough to throw her spiraling into an entirely instinctive reaction and all of her higher brain functions straight out the window.

She didn’t even notice when she let go of the backpack in her hands, and how the milk loudly thumped on the floor and when her keys clanged next to it. All she could see was the barrel of a gun.

...a gun.

A gun.

 _Gun_.

“Hi,” she heard. _I’m going to die_ was the last thought she had.

She started trembling. At least she thought she did.

The gun came near and she wanted to close her eyes. But she couldn’t. She stared straight at it. Like she always did. 

She couldn’t even breathe. Air was a luxury denied to her. 

_Please, no_ — she heard herself saying, despite knowing that she didn’t make any sound. Once, yes. Not now. _Please, I didn’t see anything_ — _I swear_ — 

Julianna could see all the way to hell from where she was standing. Maybe up to heaven too if she dared to look up. The entire afterlife laid out in front of her and Julianna felt she’s about to join. Make the final step. All her past friends were calling out to her from the other side.

_Bad timing, kid._

We come into the world screaming, announcing we’re here. Screaming means you’re alive. So she started screaming, making no noise like before. Fear closed her throat. Once, yes, she would scream. Not now.

_Bang._

Sharp pain in her heart. It was horrible. It always was horrible. It made her start to sob and hold her chest. It hurt so much that Julianna thought she was going to die. She probably _will_ die. 

_Please, I swear_ — _Bad timing, kid. Bang._

The entire world slowly turned into a bright, blinding blur, and she started to think she _already_ died. 

Someone tried to grab her, though, so maybe she wasn’t entirely dead. Not yet. She certainly didn’t want to be. 

_Please, I swear- Bad timing, kid. Bang._

She tried to defend herself. It was her pain. Feeling pain means you’re alive, so long there’s a pain you’re alive to experience it. She would not allow anybody to touch her. She would not let anybody hurt her more. This was hers, and hers alone. She will not let go of the pain. It was all she had.

 _Please, I swear_ — _Bad timing, kid. Bang._

Instead of hard concrete and more pain came softness. It startled her. Startled right into crying, and violent sobs - finally, _a sound_ \- came out of her. She couldn’t stop the tears. She didn’t want to. We come into the world and we cry. Crying means you’re alive.

 _Please, I swear_ — _Bad timing, kid. Bang._

There was no softness before. This couldn’t be death. Death is cold and dark, then loud and flashing. Death smells like sterile floors, not leather. 

“This is not then—” she managed to mumble. It made her hurt more, but in a different way. She closed her fingers around the warmth. “This is not then—”

Another sharp pang in her chest. It was not _that_ death, but it as well might be another. Everything inside her hurt. The entire world was made of fear and pain and deafening silence. 

_Can you hear me? Hey, girl, can you hear me? It’s going to be okay!_

Then came warmth. She didn’t expect warmth. 

_Listen to me! You’re going to be fine. Stay with us! Don’t close your eyes._

Something touched her back, and she tensed up. Then, she relaxed. She knew this touch.

 **_Julianna, listen._ ** _Everything’s alright, Juls. You’re safe._ **_This too will pass._ **

“This is not then. This too will pass. This is not then—”

Yes. Yes. Yes. It’s just a bad dream. It’s just—

The world started to go dark instead. Maybe it won’t pass. Maybe she’ll die.

**_Breathe._ **

She took in a big gulp of air, and the darkness receded just a little bit. 

_Count to four with me, Juls._

**_In. Hold. Out._ ** _Breathe._

Another gulp. And another. And another. Less and less darkness. 

**_You’re doing great._ **

Warmth, and softness, and the smell of leather. Maybe it’ll pass. Maybe she won’t die again. 

Slowly, very slowly, she realized that the smell of leather is a leather jacket. And the warmth and softness is a blanket around her, and someone’s hand on her back. Julianna blinked. She dared not to glance to the side to check who was sitting there, calming her down. Instead, when she finally could feel her fingers, she reached out for the glass of water in front of her. Her throat was too dry and her cheeks too wet. 

“Hey,” Julianna heard from the person next to her. It was the voice of the gun that almost killed her again.

She hid in the glass of water, to hide her hands trembling. If he wanted to kill her then, she would be dead by now. Maybe if she talks, he won’t think of doing it again. 

Julianna swallowed and started to talk.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [Karukos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karukos/pseuds/Karukos) for being my beta reader!


End file.
